


A Night With No Moon

by IkolHasMyAngel



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, Marvel RPF, Sebastian Stan - Fandom
Genre: Blood Drinking, Demon/Human Relationships, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, F/M, Sexual Coercion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 07:34:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12859824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IkolHasMyAngel/pseuds/IkolHasMyAngel
Summary: You’re a succubus from a powerful line on the prowl for your next victim when one night, a chance encounter changes the dynamic between the hunter and the hunted.





	A Night With No Moon

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting my work so I’d appreciate some feedback! Not sure how many parts this is going to be yet. It WILL get NSFW real quick and there well be dub/con so please be aware. I'll also post updates on my tumblr over at sebtheromanianprince.tumblr.com/tagged/fics :)

It’s not always the unique smell of arousal and longing that attracts you to your victims. On occasion it will be the forlorn call of a sincere heart. The beat of such a one is like a dog whistle to your heightened succubus senses. Paired with heartbreak, it’s the most delectable kind of treat for the damned. This particular mix has a name among your kind: mors amoris, death of love. In your several hundred years of existence you have only had the privilege of taking two such morsels, both gone before your thirst could be sated. The thought makes you smile. There has never been a succubus that could be satisfied by a mortal for long. At most they are an ephemeral pet and at the very least, a snack. 

Your belly gives an uncomfortable twinge to remind you that you haven’t eaten in a while. Succubus don’t need to feed often, but like every other pleasure it is one that you love to indulge on a whim. This is why you are most likely to be encountered at a nightclub. A dark venue crowded with people and their lowered inhibitions is your preferred hunting ground for various reasons. You can take as little as a few sips in a corner or bait your meal to a more private place. Sometimes the club will be owned by a fellow succubus or her thrall. In that case you needn’t go far to clean up after yourself. 

The club you currently find yourself in is run by humans. It has a spacious dance floor, with a bar on one side and a raised platform on the other, both spanning the length of the room. On the ends are stairs leading up to a second floor filled with black semi-circle couches, small tables, stools, and various nooks half hidden with decorative ceiling-to-floor cloth. The hot press of bodies is delicious. The smell of sweat and skin has you licking your lips as you move through with the crowd to the beat of the music vibrating up from the floor. Hunger makes your senses more acute.

A particularly tantalizing scent makes your head turn to its source: a tall, dark haired man. His jawline is sharp, curving towards a dimpled chin. Dark eyelashes shadow steely blue eyes as he watches a long-haired woman dance seductively with another man. Even from a distance you can see his full lips become a hard line. You make your way forward, nose sampling his smell as you note his expression become more and more pained. Under the pounding of the music you hear it, the halting beat of a breaking heart. The sound sends shivers down your spine, making you quicken your stride. 

At this point you are near enough that you are immediately hit with his new scent: mors amoris. The undertones of unfulfilled desire have your fangs growing in your mouth, and not a moment too soon. Three other succubae have caught a trace of the fragrance and are making their way towards the man even as he knocks back a shot with closed eyes. Before they can advance any further you stake your claim, lips curling back from your teeth. At a decibel too low for humans to hear, you growl out a warning, eyes flashing in the near darkness of the club. The demonesses stop and lock glowing eyes with you, sizing you up. Whoever this man is, he is too much of a delicacy to just give up without a challenge. 

You watch them begin to circle, their forms becoming immaterial to move easily in the crowded venue. With your back to your chosen prey, you adopt a defensive stance and use your last remaining option to stop the fight before it begins: your bloodline. Digging your sharp nails into your palm, you draw blood and hold your hand aloft. Red pools in the cup of your fingers and with it the sharp aroma of power and age. You are a daughter of Eisheth, the third queen of demons, and as such outrank them by a wide margin. The force of your authority compels them to bend to your claim. You answer their glowering faces with a smirk as they slink away into the shadows, unable to break the chain of rule that governs your kind. 

A slight tingling blossoms in your hand as your flesh knits together, removing any trace of blood from your skin. You turn in time to catch a man with dark almond shaped eyes sling a friendly arm around your target’s broad shoulders.

“Hey Seb! You gonna have some shots with the rest of us or are you getting shitfaced all by yourself?” 

You casually take a seat at a table near the bar as you listen to their conversation, throwing up a glamour to subtly repel any unwanted attention. You don’t need common blood pestering you while you analyze your prey.

Seb gives his friend a halfhearted smile as he rubs his neck in a tired fashion. “I was thinking of calling it a night actually.”

“What? Old age catching up to you already, brotha?” He breaks the one-armed hug only to gently punch Seb in the chest. 

He laughs softly, but with no humor. “More like the shots are going to my head. I need to get back while I can.”

The other man quirks a thick black eyebrow. “What are best friends for if not to drag your drunk ass home? You have me after all!”

“And I’m grateful, Charles- “

“Ah shit.”

“What?”

“You called me Charles.”

“That’s your name isn’t it?”

“You only call me that if some heavy shit is happening. What’s wrong, man?” Charles crosses his arms against his chest, a concerned no-bullshit expression on his Asian features. 

“Nothing,” Seb replies, glancing towards the dance floor.

The catalyst to his heartbreak is now wrapped up in the arms of the man she had been dancing with. Her honey curls obscure her face as the two kiss passionately. It’s an obvious gimmick, the kind that attention seekers employ to make an ex flame jealous. You fight the urge to roll your eyes at such a blatant display. Seb on the other hand, quickly looks away to the shot glass he’s twirling in his hand. He sets it down with more force than necessary on the bar’s glossy countertop.

Charles places a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “How about we get outta this overrated club and marathon some Game of Thrones at your place? I’ll even order us some pizza.”

You hold your breath as Seb considers the offer. The well-meaning friend is throwing a wrench in your plans to taste your newfound treasure before sunrise. If he is to be yours completely you must take him tonight. The risk of another snatching him up is too high given how fine a specimen he is, how rare. You need every hour before daylight to have him under your thrall. If it comes to it, you will not hesitate to remove this irritating obstacle permanently.

“Thanks man, but I’m not gonna be good company. I need some time to myself,” Seb says apologetically. 

Charles nods in understanding and pats him once on the back before letting him go. “Just don’t you shut yourself away, alright?”

“I won’t,” Seb reassures him. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Hang in there, Sebastian.”

With a final side hug, the two part ways. Skirting the mass of moving bodies, Sebastian makes his way to the club’s main doors, a stern look on his handsome features. He doesn’t spare a second glance to the woman still wrapped around her new lover, unaware she is no longer the center of his attention. You follow closely behind him but still watchful of any threats, your body now immaterial and blending with the shadows in between the flashing neon lights.  


The night is a breath of fresh air when you both make it outside. Your glamour still holds and you are overlooked by the passerby as you tail Sebastian down the street. He walks with purpose, his strides long and unfaltering as he leaves the nightlife behind. His right hand clenches and unclenches repeatedly, an outward sign of his emotional turmoil. Your steps make no sound as you round a corner, hot on his heels. With no one around that you can sense, you allow yourself the luxury of another of your abilities and float up off the pavement as if gravity itself has willingly relinquished its hold on you. 

You rise higher in the air until you are hovering several feet above Sebastian. This affords you a bird’s eye view of him, which is why you catch the sudden jolt of surprise his body makes. He stops and whirls around, his eyes searching his surroundings like a startled animal. You drape yourself in the air as if it were a particularly comfortable bed, watching him struggle with the primal instinct of being hunted. Most humans in this era are so oblivious that their survival instinct gives no warning to impending danger until it is too late. It’s unusual that he should sense you, but you are in a way pleased.

Seeing no sign of anyone, he continues down the road. You allow yourself the luxury of hanging back only to watch his anxious looks and quick steps. Both hands are balled into fists and you have no doubt his pupils are wide to see more clearly in the semi darkness. Your sensitive hearing picks up his heart beats. They’re coming slightly faster, his lungs also working to keep pace with his heart. Sebastian’s scent grows a note of fear that makes you smile widely, fangs protruding in want. You can’t help yourself from making a hungry growl deep in your throat, low enough to be felt more than heard.

The effect is abrupt. The small hairs at the back of his neck stand on end and he whips around again, eyes wide. You glide on your back above him, craning your neck to see him trying to figure out if he heard someone or if his mind is playing tricks on him. Sebastian walks backwards, still searching for any sign of movement or a suspicious sound. Playing cat and mouse amuses you so much that you continue to float on past him, admiring the back of his head and tense shoulders as you go. He turns on his heel once more and you get a full view of his scared face as he begins to jog. You quickly realize he is heading to a brightly lit main street where cars and people can be seen going by in the distance. 

You weigh your options carefully as you begin to slow your effortless drifting. You could incapacitate him here, right now, and take him to your hideaway. It could be easily done; one swift blow to the head and he’d be out like a light. But then again, you know so little of your prey. The man’s sudden disappearance could create too many problems, especially with that meddlesome friend of his. The instant communication and openness of these times was a consistent hindrance as well. A touch of a finger on his phone and he could call for help.

Sebastian has nearly reached the relative safety of the populated street. You could kill him and make it look like the work of a criminal. He would not be a hindrance for long if you drank your fill and left him to die. You mulled this over as your eyes raked over his lithe form. He would not be able to outrun you, much less fight you off. It would be such a waste of that heady blood of his though, to finish him so quickly. With that thought you stop your pursuit and allow him to make it under the bright street lights. He leans out towards the road with an arm raised. A cab stops in front of him, it’s dark windows reflecting his image. As he climbs into the back of the car you descend until your heeled feet once again stand on firm ground and decide on a course of action. You will go the traditional route. It has been a long time since you’ve made a house call.


End file.
